Trigger Warning

I’m in a really funky mood this week. My mind is creating spiraling narratives, and intrusive thoughts keep showing up. I am better prepared for these unwelcomed thoughts, and it still sucks majorly.

This past week, I’ve been gifted by not one but two reminders of my sexual assault and the fears that come with it.

Baby Reindeer on Netflix was recommended to me, and I’ve seen it everywhere so I took it as a sign to go ahead and watch it. I’m the type to not read any summary or synopsis of books, movies, shows, etc because I like to be surprised. And this one was one hell of a surprise. For you all who haven’t watched it, just know that it deals with sexual violence, drugs, stalking, and the way survivors respond to trauma. So many layers. I wasn’t prepared.

Immediately, I was intrigued and I binged it in two days, which left me disturbed, angry, sad, validated, and yearning. The way Donny reacted to all the things happening to him was exactly how I felt and behaved after being molested at 9 and sexually assaulted at 18. I’m 36 now and those experiences still haunt me to this day (and I’m sure it’ll always linger). There were thoughts that made me question my sexuality, similar to Donny. Am I queer because I was assaulted by men and I refuse to be with a man? (I think one of my many therapists said this - not asked - to me and I can’t shake it off.) I most definitely am queer regardless of what happened to me, btw.

A police officer also asked Donny, “Why are you just now reporting this?” This seems to be the first response rather than “I’m sorry that happened to you. Tell me more so that I can support you.” I found myself asking why I waited so long to share my story. It is because it’s shameful to admit what was done to you and shameful to admit that you couldn’t do anything about it at all. And because there’s dissonance / disassociation, our bodies and minds make decisions subconsciously. If trauma is all you’ve ever known, trauma is your comfort. It took me ten years to tell my mom about what happened to me at 9 years old, another 11 years to admit aloud that I was sexually assaulted at 18, and another 5 years to tell my family. I thought it was my fault for the longest time. So in a way, yes, I wish I had a nurturing environment so that I could’ve released and healed from that as soon as it happened, but instead I sat with it until it consumed almost everything I did. Until I continued to make poor decisions because I didn’t know any better. Whew.

Anyway, I think the yearning comes from the part when Donny told his parents and their reactions were that of empathy, love, and support, which I have yet to receive. I know, I know, I must release the expectation that I’ll get this. I mean, my mom died taking it to her grave, telling no one and forbidding me to talk about it. And my dad, well, my dad continues to say harmful things about survivors, not knowing or refusing to acknowledge the pain he causes every time sexual assault is brought up. Whew.

Which brings me to the second instance this past week. I was getting a massage, and I’m typically a fan of my massage therapist. She’s queer, we’ve had great conversations, and she really does work on my body the way I need her to. It really is a thing that the more you get to know someone, their true colors start showing up and definitely the reason why I loved first dates and nothing more. We got to talking about a guy who’s been accused of sexually assaulting multiple folks, and her response was, “I don’t believe it because he’s never done it to me.”

YALL. My whole body froze. Here is someone I’ve come to like say something so harmful, and I froze. I don’t know why I’m still surprised at some of the things people say. She continued to say along the lines, “And one of the women, she’s been putting provocative photos of her online. Why would she be doing that if she were assaulted?” And child. My soul left my body. I heard myself say, “it’s a trauma response. Folks respond differently to trauma and may not be how we want or expect them to behave.” Because I definitely sexualized everything from 9 years old to my early 30s. And I’ve heard from therapists and family members how I should get over it or I should’ve known better or well, what did you expect?

To be so bold and invalidate someone’s experience because you didn’t go through it. Does that mean that all these serial killers aren’t killers because they didn’t kill you? Or it can be as simple as, folks aren’t teachers because they didn’t teach you? Do you see how ridiculous that sounds?

Anyway, I need all the hugs, both virtual and physical. Some weeks are so good, and this one, this one was really hard.

And here I am, fighting to thrive. Because I survived and I refuse to stay in survival mode.